87
“Blast it!” Milo didn’t know where to begin. Some notes in the column were written in what looked like chicken scratch. “Stupid blasted scribbles! How am I supposed to read that?”
On the slab, Selma lay motionless and calm while Milo did a panicked dance around her. In one hand, he held a set of blueprints. In the other, a couple of tools including a screwdriver and some pliers.
From what he could tell, the fireball had melted some of the wires together and she was doing something the dwarves called shorting out.
Basically, the lightning wasn’t going where it should.
It was looping.
And that was causing more heat to build.
And was why her lower leg kept twitching every few seconds.
How dangerous was it? He didn’t know.
Was there a possibility she could die?
He didn’t know that, either.
“Blast,” he snarled, slamming the blueprint down on his bench and poking his finger around as he tried to understand what he was seeing while his mind reeled in crazy circles. “Blast it all!”
“Milo,” Selma called, reaching weakly for him. Her fingers twitched. “Slow down. Zzt. It’s okay. It’s zzt okay.”
“No, it’s not okay!” He brought his fist down onto the plans. “I should blasted well know what to do! I built you. I should know how to fix you.”
“Zzt. You’re doing fine,” she said, her smile twitching. “Just zzt slow down.”
He turned on her, his eyes wild.
Tears of frustration threatened to spill.
“Why? Why would you attack a mage who’s rated ten? I told you to leave him alone.” Milo wanted to punch a wall. “Why are you all so blasted crazy?”
“You’re zzt our engineer, Milo. Zzt.” Selma giggled, the sound scratchy and dry. “You zzt made us this zzt way.”
He stared at her.
Shook his head.
Then he turned back to the blueprints. “I don’t really know what I’m doing,” he told her. “I’m just following what this says. That’s all. I haven’t had time to learn it all properly. I haven’t had time! I need time.”
“Milo…” She managed to snag his sleeve. “Please. Zzt. It’s fine.”
“You might die because of me.”
“No. Zzt.” She squeezed his sleeve. “Not because. Zzt. For. And that’s okay.”
“No, it’s blasted not!” He turned on her, outrage warring with shock. “That’s not what I wanted!”
“We could zzt die in a dungeon any time,” she reminded him. “Zzt. I’d rather die for something zzt better than just a zzt game.”
Milo stared down at Selma.
She tried to smile again, but the twitching kept interrupting it.
“When this is done, we’re gonna sit down and talk about this,” he told her. “You, me, and the other two lunkheads. We’re going to sit down and talk.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“Zzt. Okay.”
“Hmph.”
Then he took a deep breath. He turned back to the blueprints. Lowered his goggles so he could read the stupid chicken scratch letters some dwarf had scribbled messily on top of someone else’s notes.
She watched him, her eyes twinkling as he slowly calmed down.
As his mind started to empty.
And the only thing which filled his thoughts was her. How she worked. How she functioned. How her wires were connected. Everything in his mind in that moment was utterly focused on her.
When he finally turned back to her, he was muttering and waving a cutter. He pulled out a few clamps from his pocket and started slicing through her golemskin, which he clamped open so they wouldn’t try to heal while he was working inside her.
She could feel his fingers touch the wiring.
Trace them slowly. So gentle.
Then when he started cutting the wires with his pliers, she wanted to shiver.
Slowly, the twitching ceased and numbness crept through her as she was slowly disconnected from parts of her body. He snatched up the blueprints again.
Muttered and murmured to himself.
Selma was soon able to smile without the twitching, and she did so. Smiling at him as he hunched over her belly, his head so close that she had to resist reaching out and touching him.
She had to be still.
Unmoving.
Let him inside her with his deft touches and almost clinical movements.
He pulled out melted gears. Dropped them gently into a bucket. Pieces of herself being lifted from her body.
She should have felt sorrow.
Or fear.
But all she felt was joy as he worked on her with his face blank of emotion but wet with sweat. He pushed his hand deep into her wiring, and she could feel him pulling at threads deep inside her chest near her heart where her core lay.
The intimacy of it made her want to moan.
But that’d distract him.
He’d lose his concentration.
And maybe panic again.
She bit her lip to hold back the sound as he gently unthreaded the ruined wires and started counting them out. Paring them back. Then searching for matching wires to replace the melted sections.
“I need to upgrade some of this,” he said, speaking mostly to himself. “Add some more plating here. And we can mod your arms. Yeah. We need to give you some tricks. Tricks that’ll keep this from happening again. I gotta… I gotta…”
Unable to resist, she reached up and put a hand against his cheek.
She smiled into his surprised expression.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Stop worrying.”
“I’ll do them soon,” he promised.
“I know.”
He held up a fistful of wires. “I gotta do this first.”
“I’m ready.”
“Alright.”
He pulled the goggles down and went to work again. Sweat dribbled down his cheeks like tears. His motions were mechanical as he attached the wires, soldered them, wrapped them with insulation, and moved on.
Every new wire made her feel more and more.
The numbness retreated, filling with warmth and a tingling sensation as her systems slowly compensated and readjusted.
She grit her teeth, trying not to moan.
Feeling him inside her.
Refusing to stop even when he needed it. Despite her begging him to take a break. He ignored her pleas to plunge deeper into her. The heat of his iron made her gasp now and then.
Until, finally, he finished.
He looked exhausted. But in a delirious way. Selma could see his mind was circling as his thoughts slowly rose back from their muted depths to fill him again with regret, doubt, and confusion.
“How do you feel?”
She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the tingling fade. It made her feel happy because it meant she was repaired. But also sad, because it meant the end of him touching her today.
“I feel good,” she said.
“No twinges?”
“No.” She grinned at him. “I feel good.”
Nodding, he released the clamps on the golemskin and gently tugged it into place over the padding. He pressed it together, holding it until it started to seal on its own.
“I don’t even know why that works,” he muttered bitterly. “It’s not magic. But mana is involved. I know that much. Why can’t I know the basic things at least?”
“There’s still time,” she said, brushing his hand. “Plenty of time.”
“Is there?” He shook his head. “What if next time I can’t save you?”
“You worry too much, Milo.”
He nodded, accepting that. Then he took a step back so she could sit up slowly.
She felt the gears inside move smoothly. Nothing felt out of place.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to get hurt. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
“I’m not sad,” he said, fumbling for words through his tired brain.
“I was angry. And disappointed. Not in you. In myself. I have all of this, and I should know more about it. That’s why the Prime wanted me to learn the language, right?
So, I should learn it faster! Then you’ll be safe.
All of you. Safe from Paddstones and Farringhams and the blasted Mage Court, too. ”
“Next time, I’ll talk to you first,” Selma promised, not sure if she could keep the promise. But she told herself she’d try.
He stared up at her.
There was a strange look on his face. One she didn’t recognize.
“Milo?” She gulped, wondering if something was wrong. She put a hand to her face, testing for anything which might be broken. But everything felt fine. “What is it?”
He shook his head.
Then he lunged in to kiss her.
Shocked, she took the kiss without responding. Her whole body froze, and her eyes snapped open to stare down at him.
He had to stand on his toes to reach her mouth.
Slowly, she kissed him back, feeling her Machine Intelligence Core suddenly bloom with heat. She wrapped her arms around him, feeling his go around her waist.
He pulled back suddenly, his expression still strange.
He looked her up and down.
Then he nodded.
“I should get damaged more often,” she quipped. “If it means getting kisses.”
“Kisses?” He tugged at his belt and growled. “I give in, Selma Standpoint.”
She watched his pants go down.
“Eep!”